What Good is Independence?
by xXSuzuXx
Summary: What good is independence if you can't achieve what you want?
1. Chapter 1

I don't much care for rainy days.

They remind me of that day…

Unfortunately, here it rains all the time.

* * *

><p>July Fourth is a day of major celebration for him. 'Happy Birthday". Every year I tell myself that I'll be able to say it this year. By the end of the day I'm telling myself that I'll be able to say it next year instead. The year I can say it never comes, no matter how much time goes by, I can never find the words. I can't even bring myself to speak to him. Maybe it's to make myself feel better… but at the end of the day, I always feel worse.<p>

This year, it rained that day, just as it did that day in early July, countless years ago. I'd like to say 'countless', anyways. I know exactly how many years, days it's been since that day. I sometimes wonder if it's the same for him. Probably not.

By early morning, I was all set to go. Alfred has a nasty habit of inviting me to every single one of his birthday parties. I used to think it was just to rub it in. I'm not sure whether I want to be right or wrong. It would be just like Alfred to rub it in, regardless of how sore a subject. In fact, he seemed to thrive off that sort of thing. I must have thought of at least one hundred different things I could say to him, too many different ways I could just… greet him.

I never left the house.

My hand froze on the doorknob, and I couldn't make it outside. I loosened my tie and took a couple steps back, then a few more. As my heel touched the couch, I sank to the ground, my knees to my chest. The feeling in my chest was awful. A sense of dread built in my stomach, matched only by the all too familiar despair.

No matter how much I wanted to, how hard I tried to get myself out the door, I couldn't. It wasn't going to happen. This time my excuse would be that it was too miserable a day to go out anywhere. I doubted that anybody believed me, or even feel it was necessary to ask me. It was mostly my own ego that made me think anyone even cared.

I just couldn't stand to see him. Not today, when he was not only celebrating a birthday, but the day he left me behind. To have seen him happy would have been too unbearable. To have seen him happy, and celebrating this…I wouldn't be able to stand it.

I would spend the day alone, wallowing in self pity.

Or so I thought.

Just past noon, there was a knock on the door. I peeked up as the knocking persisted, but decided before long that I wasn't opening the door that day. My forehead lowered to my knees again, and I squeezed my eyes shut, silently willing the person to leave. It wasn't just Alfred I didn't want to deal with. It was everyone, and anyone that might remind me of him.


	2. Chapter 2

I know I should say that rainy days are refreshing, worthy of celebration.

And at first, I really thought that.

But now, I think my heart breaks a little every time it rains.

* * *

><p>Arthur never celebrates my birthday anymore. Not since I gained my independence. The reason has never been a mystery to anyone, and his excuses are too obvious.<p>

I'd known for a long time already that he was hurt, and that was likely the reason he never showed up to my parties. I still invited him, though. Always. It was probably a stupid hope that Arthur would soon be able celebrate with me again. Just like when I was little.

All that time, I could deal with it. Nearly everybody came around to celebrate my birthday, so who needed Arthur in the first place? My birthdays were better without him. They would have been even better if Francis hadn't shown up. At least, that's what I liked to tell myself. Actually, in the case of Francis, it was the truth.

For some reason, it was different this year. Whatever I did, I couldn't get Arthur off my mind. It was unbearable, having to have Arthur on my mind while trying to enjoy myself. No matter what anyone did to cheer me up, I could only sulk all morning.

"Why don't you go see Arthur?" Francis suggested, that all knowing look creeping over his expression as he stroked his chin. I sneered. That was the last thing I wanted to do. And I told him so.

He didn't believe me, and neither did anyone else.

By eleven I'd given in. I didn't want to see him, I thought to myself. Who would want to see a jerk like Arthur on their birthday? Still, there I was, standing at his front door. I must have stood there for at least an hour, working myself in and out of a frenzy.

Anxiety rushed through me, then passed as the clock struck twelve, and imaginary bells rang through my head. That tended to happen a lot in England, I noted. I only hesitated for a moment longer, then I knocked on the door, feeling nosy enough to peek in the window while I did so. There was Arthur. Or rather, a blotch of blond that would have been Arthur's head sticking out from his knees.

I knocked again. He didn't look too intent on getting up, so I continued to knock. I knocked, and I knocked, then I knocked some more. I went on like that for ten minutes before my knuckles on both hands got too sore to continue. I must have felt pretty irritated, seeing him in there, without so much as moving an inch to answer the door to have knocked hard enough to make my knuckles sore. "Come on, open up!" I called. There was no response. Arthur's bad attitude was beginning to frustrate me, and I rubbed my temples, trying to decide my next course of action.

Grasping at straws, I placed my hand on the doorknob. I twisted the knob, and grinned victoriously when I found the door was unlocked. What an idiot Arthur was. Or maybe he was just being lazy, leaving the door unlocked like that.

Needless to say, I let myself in, and welcomed myself into the home. No doubt, Arthur would give me no such welcoming, so I just did it for him. "Hello~" I chirped cheerily, nearly skipping as I joined Arthur in the living room. He hardly moved, and just offered a tiny grunt. "Why, don't you look miserable." The rain had left me pretty well soaked, and I was pretty sure I was dragging water in across the carpeted floor with me, but I didn't care. Arthur deserved it. It was kind of pathetic how I looked, actually, soaked from head to toe. Not to say he didn't look more pathetic, hunched up in a little ball. Arthur was completely dry, like he hadn't stepped out at all the day, but he was dressed nicely. Or… must have been dressed nicely earlier. The jacket to the suit he was wearing was cast aside, and I could see a tie around the back of his neck. He would probably scold me for wearing something so casual when he was dressed nicely. Especially on my birthday.

"Do you know what day it is?"

Again, there was only a grunt in response, and Arthur shifted uncomfortably. I could only frown, circling to stand behind the couch again. "It's my birthday! Surprise!" It should have been Arthur saying 'surprise', I realized, but I would have to make do with saying it for the both of us. I was quite certain at that time that he would have wanted it. I wanted him to want it.

I circled again to stand in front of him, then squatted. "Iggy~" I whined, reaching out to touch his hair. He flinched back, and I frowned. "Oh, don't be such a poor sport." My cheeks puffed out, and there was no response. "Iggy~" I whined again. Reaching out a second time, I shoved his shoulder lightly. Still no response. I poked at his shoulder this time. He shifted a little more, and I finally heard his voice.

"Leave me be." His voice was quiet, and not quite as demanding as it was begging.

I didn't listen to his request. "Don't you have a present for me?" I persisted. I wasn't meaning to be selfish, exactly, but there are very few ways to get Arthur to speak when he's intent on being quiet. He only shook his head.

"You have enough people at your party, go back there." He told me. I pouted.

"No." I sounded a little like a child. It was probably endearing. "I'm either staying here, or you're coming with me."

He shook his head. "Look at me." I demanded abruptly. I surprised myself with the demand, because I hadn't consciously thought of the request. He shook his head again. "Look at me." Now I was curious. Arthur was keeping his head down like a mole, or something, and now I wanted to know why. It wasn't good to look so depressing. When he offered a silent refusal again, I reached out. My fingers brushed against his hair momentarily, and I couldn't help but admire how soft it was as I moved on, finding his chin crammed somewhere between his knees and tilting it upwards, so he was forced to look at me. I gasped, shocked with what I found.

Arthur was crying.

For some reason, I always manage to be surprised whenever Arthur cries. I'm not sure why, because I have the feeling that I've made him cry more times than I'll ever know. I've had a lot of birthdays, and something told me that day that he spent every July Fourth in the same state he was in now.

It looked like Arthur had been crying for awhile. His eyes were puffy and red, there were tracks deep in his skin, and he was shaking. I only noticed then that he was trembling, and he looked like he was trying with all his might not to make a sound, teeth digging into his lip. If he could have, I was sure he would have hid his tears better, but I'd caught him off guard, and tears continued to trail down his cheeks.

It was my fault. Yet… I still had the gull to think the look suited him.


	3. Chapter 3

From the day I met you, I wanted you.

Everything was perfect.

Everything was supposed to be perfect.

I believed that everything was perfect.

* * *

><p>I was never supposed to have to see Alfred on these days. Rather, Alfred was never supposed to see me.<p>

There were too many people that could have been on the other end of the door. I didn't particularly wish to see any of them. Very few of the people I could imagine would knock more than twice, and fewer of those would continue knocking for more than a minute.

The insistent knocking on the door filled me with a sense of dread. Nobody was ever that persistent. I felt no doubt that this was Alfred. Maybe he'd finally figured out that I wouldn't be coming to his birthday parties and decided to rub it in personally. Or maybe he wanted to be with me again. It was a stupid thought.

I was filled with hope.

As I suspected, it was Arthur, but it seemed he really was only here to rub it in. He left me, and he was happier that way. I clutched my sides and curled up more. I felt like I might crumble if I let go. There was something about the way Alfred moved about my place that made me think he felt he had as much right to the place as I did. Alfred thought he owned everything, probably. I could hear him circling the couch and myself, his feet pressing into the carpet with each step.

The sound was irksome. Every sound was irksome. I noticed I had a headache.

At some point, he stopped walking and stopped in front of me. I could feel his breath part my hair, and even though he wasn't exactly breathing in my nostrils, I could smell him. He smelled of hamburgers and shakes. It was a gross, greasy kind of smell. It was distracting, and I hardly noticed his fingers in my hair.

Before I could stop Alfred, he tilted my chin upwards. I could only gasp in protest. He looked more shocked than I felt, and a few different expressions touched his features.

I only noticed that I had been, or was crying when Alfred's fingers moved from my hair to my cheek, and there was wetness. Suddenly, I was more shocked than he was, and I reached up as well. I thought… no, I hoped that his finger was wet, made out of water, anything that would have suggested that I wasn't actually crying. I felt desperate.

My eyes stung, my head hurt, and I felt weak. Alfred's lips twitched, like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the right words. When he finally found something to say, he swallowed. "Arth-" I cut him off.

"This…" I took in a sharp breath. "D-don't get the wrong idea." My breaths were shallow, and when I blinked and cleared the blurs from my vision, he already looked apologetic. "This isn't… I don't care that it's your birthday." At least I was speaking the truth. I really didn't care about his birthday. It was more the date itself, and what else it represented that I cared about. "I don't care about you." He looked doubtful.

I choked on a sob and felt my cheeks burn. I hate crying in front of people. In fact, I hate crying in general. It usually results in me embarrassing myself. I hate the sounds I make, I hate how pained I feel, and I hate how pathetic it is. It makes me hate myself, too.

There was concern, then Alfred just smiled; the phoniest smile I'd ever seen. "Right." He laughed. It was an airy, but dry sound. Then he stood up and turned his back to me.

I took the chance to swipe at my face. I dragged my sleeve across my face a couple times, until my skin was sore, but for the most part, dry. I hoped it would be enough to hide that I had been crying. The way my face felt told me it hadn't, but it still made me feel a little more confident, and I stood. "That's right. I knew everyone would be at your party, so I decided to stay here and relax on my own today. It's nice to have a day where everyone's out of my hair, especially you." My voice must have wavered a few times, but I could still lie.

I could still lie, but I felt like it was breaking me down more. I just wanted Alfred to leave, and fast.

"Right." Alfred repeated, sounding sour. He turned back to me, the phoney smile still plastered across his face. He was grinning from ear to ear, and yet I could still tell it was a lie.

When Alfred doesn't mean to smile, I can tell. It's too obvious, it's obvious, but it still hides what he's really feeling. For that reason, it's all the more infuriating. Alfred's somebody who should always be honest. Even if he's being stupid.

Alfred's fingers were in my hair again, and he ran them through my hair once, then he placed his hand on my head and ruffled my hair. I ducked my head down, making a rather pathetic sound of protest. When he stopped, he laughed again. "Sorry." He apologized, and I was shocked.

Coming from Alfred, an apology was something to be shocked about. Alfred hardly ever apologized. At least, apologized and sounded like he meant it. Even if he had done something wrong and everybody knew it, he would never apologize. The best he could offer was a sulky 'I'm sorry', that was obviously only said because he felt he had to say it. Alfred was pretty stubborn, so he hardly ever gave into having to apologize like that, even. This was different.

I had the feeling the wasn't apologizing for letting himself in and intruding on my home, because I was quite certain Alfred didn't care about things like that. If I hadn't left the door unlocked- and what an idiot I was for doing so- he would have found a way to break in. So it wasn't that he was apologizing for.

He was apologizing for something,, but I wasn't quite sure what it was.

"Well, I'll be going now. If you don't have any presents for me, then there's no point in staying." Alfred turned on his heels so his back was turned to me again, and started for the door.

I felt the sudden urge to run after him, to stop him, even though I'd just told myself I wanted him to go, fast. He was there with me. Without him I would be alone. I didn't want him there, but I didn't want to be alone, either. Without feeling it, I saw my hand stretch out, but I never reached him, or called out for him. Before I could even respond, the door shut loudly behind him, and he was gone.

I would spend the rest of the day alone.


	4. Chapter 4

When I was younger the sky was always so out of reach.

It was as broad, and unreachable as you were.

Before I knew it, I'd surpassed you both.

Why do I wish I could be that small again?

* * *

><p>I was hurt.<p>

Arthur's words stung more than they should have. I knew not to take his words to heart when he was upset like this, but I couldn't help it when he was saying things that were hurtful like that. I doubted he really meant any of it, but I couldn't deny the possibility. Could he really not care about me? If that were the case, I could only blame myself.

I couldn't look at him, so I turned away. I'd tried to laugh, but it just barely fled my lips. I hoped my expression hadn't give me away.

If Arthur didn't care about me, it was likely that he just plain hated me. I couldn't blame him. If I were in his shoes, I would probably hate me too. I'd betrayed him, hurt him and done just about everything to him that would make a person hate another. I felt sorry for him.

No, I just felt sorry.

Looking right at Arthur and apologizing had been difficult, one of the most difficult things I'd ever done. Still, I did it, I looked right at him and I apologized, and he looked appalled. I couldn't blame him for that, either. I've never been good at apologizing, I just hate doing it. I hate being wrong, and I hate admitting it even more. I've seldom ever been wrong about anything, anyways.

In this case, I knew I was wrong. I was wrong because I'd hurt Arthur, and he was the last person I ever wanted to hurt like that. It drove me nuts, feeling that I had something to be sorry for, but I knew that I did. I had to apologize. I knew it needed to be done.

I knew I was just a nuisance now. At some point, I'd been something more than that, but I was the one who'd changed that. I wanted to prove myself to him, but I couldn't. I'd had hundreds of years to do exactly that, and I hadn't so far. I hadn't proven anything. I'd only taken from him. Today he should have had the peace and quiet to do whatever he wanted, because he didn't have to see me. I'd taken that away from him, too. There was so little I could do, I felt.

I couldn't even be honest about why I was leaving.

How I'd left him was rude, he would probably tell me. He deserved better than that. Some honesty, maybe. I didn't give it to him, I just left and hoped he would stop me. But he didn't. It was another thing I couldn't blame him for. I wouldn't have tried to stop me, either. I wasn't even sure what I would do, or say if he did. Chances were, I would just end up hurting him again, and I was pretty sure I didn't want that.

The sound of the door closing behind me was too loud. Somehow, the silence that followed seemed even louder. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the door. I was supposed to be leaving, and gone, but I was still hoping that Arthur would at least open the door and check for me. At least that would assure me that he was lying, and I wanted that. I didn't deserve it at all, but I still wanted it.

I waited there for half an hour, and the door never opened. In fact, I didn't hear any movement to come anywhere near the door, or near any of the windows. There was no indication that Arthur had even moved at all.

Feeling pretty discouraged, I went back home. I wasn't in the mood for celebrating anymore, but there were still people there, waiting for me to get back… or maybe they just hadn't noticed I'd left in the first place. Whether friends or not, nearly everyone I knew was there, and nearly everyone had someone else to speak to.

I felt left out of my own birthday party.

Even so, I sucked it up and joined in again, trying to keep myself in good spirits. It was my birthday, and what kind of birthday boy got all depressed?

The kind who had Arthur on their mind all day.

* * *

><p>Weeks had gone by since my birthday party, and it was getting to be unbearably hot out. I'd been spending most of the summer sulking. I hadn't seen Arthur since I'd visited him, and it didn't seem like he was socializing with anybody, really. I felt like it was my fault. Was my apology not enough for him?<p>

I hated feeling guilty. I wanted to confront him again, but I couldn't. I had no reason to. It was more like I was afraid to. Being afraid of anything wasn't like me, but there I was. How was I going to speak to Arthur again, when I was quite certain he hated me?

I ended up going to Matthew for advice. I told him it was too hot at my place, and his place was much cooler. After all, it was winter all year long there. At least, that was what I thought. It was much, much warmer than I expected it to be, but it was still cooler than my place, so I decided to stick around. He believed me, anyways.

Matthew was always a good listener, and advice giver. It's about all he's ever been good for. I'd decided that we would carry out a normal conversation for as long as I could, and maybe I'd ask him about how he was doing, and listen to him for awhile this time while we sat and ate snacks.

I'd hardly been there for a minute when I told him everything. What'd happened, how I'd been feeling, how I thought Arthur felt, and how afraid I was to see him again. I couldn't help but throw in that Arthur didn't even seem to care that Matthew had left him, and mention how easy it'd been for him to gain independence. I'm not sure, but I think he was a little annoyed with me.

"Maybe you just didn't apologize sincerely enough. Nobody believes you when you apologize, why should he?" Matthew was definitely irritated. The tone of his voice and his sharp words said enough. "A simple apology won't be enough for everything you've done."

I frowned, and focused on the cookie I was nibbling on until it was gone. When I reached out for another, Matthew pulled the plate back, his way of telling me we had to talk. "Why wouldn't it be enough? An apology should be enough when I'm sorry!" I whined. He let me take another cookie.

Matthew shook his head. "Often times it's not enough." He was calming down again, and had apparently decided to be a little more useful to me. "If you think that you hurt him, then you probably hurt him a lot, and you should offer a more sincere apology. When you love someone, you should give them a better apology than that."

"What?" It took a moment for his words to register, then I jumped to my feet and scrambled back until my back touched the wall. "What?" I repeated. "I don't love him! That's sick, disgusting!" I shook my head.

Looking concerned, Matthew stood up next. "It's not disgusting. You shouldn't deny you love someone when you do. He's still your brother, right?"

I blinked, and felt an immense sense of relief. So that was what he meant. I sighed. Why had I thought he meant anything different? I shook my head. "No." It was better than Matthew assuming I loved Arthur in a different way, but I didn't love him like that, either. I wasn't sure what I felt for Arthur, I told myself. "I don't care for him that much, so that should be enough."

"But he still loves you." Matthew pointed out. I didn't believe him, but he continued anyways. "And you care about him enough that you're afraid to talk to him and hurt him more, so it's not enough." I hated to admit it, but he was beginning to make sense.

"So what do I do?" I sat down again, and ran my fingers through my hair. "Do I need to tell him that I lo-love him?"

Matthew smiled one of those big, warming smiles and sat himself down beside me this time. "That depends." He said. "Do you?"

For some reason, I knew he didn't mean as brothers, and I was quiet for a long time. He waited patiently for my response, even though it looked like he already knew what I was going to say.

"Yeah…" I breathed. "I do."


	5. Chapter 5

You were so small once.

Just a kid I couldn't have loved more.

I hardly even noticed you were growing up.

Then you were gone.

* * *

><p>I was at a loss after Alfred's birthday. For a few days, I even forgot how one should properly interact with others. It was one thing to realize it was his birthday, but another thing altogether to have to see him, to speak to him, and to be so close to breaking down in front of him. It was just my luck that Alfred would show up when I was so unprepared.<p>

Luckily, I was more prepared afterwards. Prepared more to avoid him than to meet with, or get rid of him. There were certain things that were impossible. Being rid of Alfred was one of them, most of the time.

Francis, unfortunately, seemed even more impossible to be rid of, for the next couple weeks. "Arthur! Fancy seeing you here." He would say as he welcomed himself into my home, whether he had to pick the lock of my front door, or slip through an open window. It was incredibly annoying, and I was so irritated that I hardly had the time to wonder how, where and when he'd learned to pick locks. "You're looking miserable, as always." He extended each of his arms, but didn't offer a hug and a kiss on each cheek as he would have with anyone else. Instead, he threw his arms in the air dramatically, and sat down.

"Who told you, you could come in?" I muttered, glaring warily at him from across the room.

The man merely shrugged in response. "You're not all sulky because Alfred paid you a visit on his birthday, are you?"

I tensed at the suggestion. "Did Alfred tell you?" That would be just like Alfred, to go off and tell everyone about it, and probably say a few nasty things about me. He'd probably told everyone I was a stingy crybaby.

To be honest, I wasn't sure how I felt when Francis shook his head. "No, he didn't say anything about it."

"Then how did you know?" I asked.

Francis shrugged. "I had a hunch." The liar. He must have done something underhanded to find out. Maybe he was spying on us? "Really, you could do a better job of hiding how upset you are over your lost love coming to see you on the anniversary of your divorce."

"I don't love him!" I'm not sure why that was the thing I protested, but Francis chuckled.

I hated that knowing smile he had on his face. "Oh, you should be more honest with yourself. Why, I tell dear Matthew I love him all the time."

I huffed. "You tell anyone with a pulse that you love them all the time." I countered.

He didn't seem too bothered. "Why that's just not true." He argued. "I don't particularly care for you. Then again, you don't have much of a pulse, do you?" He grinned, and I was about to yell at him when he spoke again. "I wonder why it is, that you're so dishonest with yourself, and everyone."

I wondered that sometimes myself. I was hardly ever honest about my feelings. Feelings were just too embarrassing, and for some reason I had the utmost difficulty expressing them honestly, even if I wanted to. I wasn't too good at displaying affection… but there was no affection that needed to be displayed! Not toward Alfred, that was for sure. I wasn't being dishonest about anything. "You've got this all wrong." I responded, breaking a long silence I hadn't noticed had fallen between us. "I don't care about Alfred." I paused. "Not anymore." He wasn't the same kid that I'd known and loved as my brother. I could only wish he was, but he wasn't. He was just some brat who clearly just liked to torment me as much as Francis did.

"I see how it is." Francis murmured.

He changed the subject quickly after that, but I had the feeling we were still talking about Alfred, and my feelings for him most of the time, just in a more roundabout manner. For some reason I couldn't bring myself to forcibly kick Francis out. This was his own idiotic way of trying to make me feel better. Admittedly, I did feel a bit better by the time he left, but I still told him not to come back.

* * *

><p>Alfred visited the next day.<p>

It was just my luck that I would see the two people I wanted to see least two days in a row. He seemed a little different this time. That day he knocked on the door. Not in the loud, obnoxious way he usually did. There were three knocks, and a long pause. How was I to know that it was Alfred, when he was being so uncharacteristic? His look was a little sullen, and even a tad bit anxious when I opened the door, and he was standing on the front step. "Hey." He greeted, offering a smile. "Can I come in?" He asked.

When he was acting like that, I couldn't deny him, and I let him in. Even the way he moved suggested something was wrong, or at least different today. His movements were calm and careful, and he actually waited for me to invite him in before coming in and sitting himself down. I sat down across from him. "Is something bothering you?" I asked

He looked away. "Bothering would be an understatement." He murmured. "Actually, you're what's bothering me."

Stunned, I felt my eyes widen, and I blinked slowly a couple times, feeling a bit confused, and at a loss for words. If either one of us was bothering the other, he was bothering me. What right did he have to come in to my home and tell me I was bothering him? Strangely, I was a little less insulted, and angry than I wanted to be. Something about him seemed genuine. Even more genuine than usual. "What do you mean?" He shrugged.

"What I mean is…" Alfred trailed off, his expression telling me he was thinking hard about something. "You shouldn't be on my mind so often!"

I was even more stunned. What in the world was he talking about? I was about to say something, but he spoke up again.

"I spoke to Matthew." He murmured, as if it were something to be ashamed of. He looked away from me. "I think… I love you." He shook his head. "No, I know I do"

For the longest time, we were both silent. I didn't know what to say. Forever could have passed by without either of us saying a word, and neither of us could look at each other.

Finally, I found the strength to speak. "No, you don't."


	6. Chapter 6

Faster, faster.

I always wanted to grow up faster.

Now I've grown up, and I want to go back.

Anything to be with you.

* * *

><p>"No, you don't." Said Arthur. The words echoed through my head.<p>

I'd spent the past three days trying to figure out what I was going to say to him. Matthew was tired of me after the first, but I still clung to him and convinced- forced- him to help me. We came up with everything I would say and do in detail.

I blew it before I even stepped in the door. No wonder Arthur didn't believe me.

Even realizing that, I was still upset enough that I stood to protest. "I do! I wouldn't say it if I didn't!" I was being honest. I was always honest, he should have recognized that. How could he not realize that I was being honest here? I wondered more how he could look more heartbroken than me. It was terrible expression. I shouldn't have been feeling guilty when I was the one confessing here, and he was the one doing something wrong by not believing in me. It wasn't the most pleasant rejection in the world.

Arthur shook his head. "Alfred… do you really feel it's necessary to pester me like this?" He asked. I watched as he ran his fingers through his hair. It felt strange to me, noticing how the smallest, most subtle movements could send shivers down my spine.

"I'm not trying to pester you!" He gestured for me to sit down, and feeling defeated, I did. "I'm not trying to pester you, really." My words were more calmed and patient this time.

Much to my dismay, he didn't seem to believe me. "Is this about me not sending you anything for your birthday? I can get you a present, if that's what you want." I shook my head. I didn't understand why he was acting like this.

"No! I'm telling you, I love you!"

"You don-"

"Iggy!"

His mouth opened to respond, but he never said anything, instead he paused, then sighed. "Oh, I get it." Arthur looked, and sounded relieved. "I didn't know you still felt that way." He mumbled. I was confused.

"Wait, what do you mean?" That he would say something like that was troubling. What did Arthur think I meant?

Arthur shrugged. "I didn't think you would still think of me that way." He looked pleased. "As your older brother, yes?" The change between how he looked a moment ago, and how he looked now was indescribable. How could he look so happy, when he'd been nothing but miserable looking just a few seconds ago? Did he really think I loved him as my brother? I didn't understand how that could make him happy. I couldn't understand how he could even think that after all this time, how that would be the first conclusion he would come up with.

"Hey!" I stood up again. "Don't underestimate how much this means to me!"

Arthur chuckled. "No, no. Of course not. I'm not underestimating anything." Even if that were true, there was a lot he wasn't understanding. "It must have been difficult to say that, after so long." He was so overjoyed that it was beginning to make me feel frustrated with him. Dammit, a misunderstanding shouldn't have made him happy. I watched him stand as well, fists curling at my sides. "I'm glad." The sound he made was so near a giggle it was sickening. Sickening, yet cute. "I…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Love you too… Alfred." Then his fingers were in my hair, making even more of a mess of it than it was already.

It wasn't what I wanted. Even if he'd returned my feelings in words, he wasn't returning my feelings, not really. He'd come to the conclusion that was most convenient to him, and it was infuriating. "No!" This wasn't what I wanted. He wasn't' supposed to feel that way. "I'm not your little brother, or even your brother at all! I don't want to be!" My face red with rage, but for some reason, he still looked happy.

"You don't have to be embarrassed." But wasn't he the one who was constantly getting embarrassed over displays of affection? "I'm-" I punched Arthur and cut him off. I don't think I've ever felt angrier. I wasn't sure that seeing him hit the ground, and rub his cheek looking absolutely baffled made me feel any better.

"Why don't you listen to me?" I bellowed, stomping my foot. He was shocked, and hurt. I could see it on his face, and I didn't care. I didn't care because I felt he had no right to not listen to me, and then be all hurt and upset about it. It was his fault.

I'd come in feeling determined and a bunch of other things I couldn't hope to identify. I left feeling furious, hurt and just pure negativity. I couldn't even look at Arthur.


	7. Chapter 7

Words of love were once exchanged between us.

A daily promise between brothers.

Now time has passed, and we hardly speak.

I yearn for what I once took for granted.

* * *

><p>The joy and relief that trickled up my spine rushed out more quickly than it had filled me. Alfred was angry, so he'd struck me, leaving me a baffled and hurt heap on the ground. I felt more pathetic than I looked, probably. Alfred was seldom truly angry at anyone. He could be vile, rude and ridiculously inconsiderate, but I couldn't remember the last time he'd struck me. There had to be good reason for it, and it was usually obvious. Still, I was confused.<p>

Alfred left with his fists still clenched, but I only looked up in time to catch his jacket fluttering behind him. Then the door slammed shut with an ear shattering crash, left to rattle with the force of the impact.

I was shocked.

What was wrong with him? Just a moment ago, he was saying that he loved me, but then he had to go and change his mind like that. Of course I would misunderstand! Whatever he was trying to say, it wasn't getting through. I was honestly hopeful. I truly hoped that he'd decided he loved me again, but he didn't. Through that assumption, I'd probably made a fool of myself. By being hopeful, I'd gotten ahead of myself, and I'd somehow offended Alfred while simultaneously hurting myself in the process. I felt like an idiot. Worse, I felt like I'd shattered what was left of our relationship all over again. What was wrong with me?

I was heartbroken. I felt like I'd lost him all over again. All it took was a moment of hope, too. I felt like I might cry. I was already crying. Again, I was left in tears over Alfred. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. Because I did this to myself too often. Every time Alfred smiled at me, gave me any sort of positive attention, I felt a small glimmer of hope, and that was my downfall. Our love had ended that rainy day, and we would never go back to normal again. Arthur would never go back to that. Not for me. A lump formed in my throat, and I couldn't make a sound.

* * *

><p>Somehow, time still went on. I recovered not long after Arthur left, but again shut myself away for a few days. I was upset, and I didn't want to deal with anyone; I was afraid that they would be able to read my mind, and I would be made fun of, and thus forced to remember. There must have been something terribly wrong with me, to have been able to mess things up so much, so many times. I didn't feel it was possible to be more upset.<p>

We didn't speak much over the passing months. In front of others, we were the same as always, a pair that constantly argued, an attitude that was shared not only between Alfred and I, but by Francis and I as well. It made me wonder if I truly got along with anyone. When no one was looking, we wouldn't even speak to one another, unlike Francis and I. At least Francis and I could speak every so often,- even if every conversation ended in argument- Alfred and I didn't even have that anymore.

I didn't tell anyone about what had happened between us, not even Francis, who did have a few questions for me. I assumed that Alfred hadn't spoken to anyone either, because nobody treated either of us any different.

It wasn't for three months that anybody suspected that anything had change between the two of us. I doubted that Alfred had expected that anybody noticed that he'd been shooting glares in my direction while I wasn't paying attention. Heck, I hadn't noticed, and nobody else had mentioned it to me.

Kiku approached me on a particularly sunny afternoon. His movements were as uncertain and shy as usual. He hesitated a little, and glanced about as if to make sure no one else would capture my attention, then finally spoke. "Arthur, has something happened between you and Alfred?" He asked.

A little startled, I stumbled a couple steps back. "No, what makes you think that?" I replied, and he shrugged.

"He's been looking at you different lately." Said Kiku, stroking his chin in thought. "With spite, or bitterness." Both meant the same thing, but I didn't open my mouth to comment. Kiku spoke up again before I could say anything, anyways. "So I was wondering if you might have got into a fight."

I shook my head. Kiku was sharper than I thought, apparently. "Nothing happened between us, it was just… just that-" I could feel a lump form in my throat like before, and I knew I was getting upset. Kiku knew too, because he pulled me into a hug and rubbed my back. It was enough to make me spill everything. I was a wreck by the time I'd finished speaking, and I was sure that half of what had come out of my mouth was complete nonsense. Somehow I felt that Kiku understood better than I did.

When I finally stopped crying, he pulled away from me, looking up at me with a smile. "I don't think what happened is anything you should be upset about. He still loves you, and it sounds like he still loves you lots."

Confused, I blinked. "What do you mean?" I asked him. That just wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. I thought he'd said he loved me, but it wasn't how I wanted it to be.

"It's simple." Kiku began, pausing to take a breath. "He said he loved you, but you assumed that he must have meant that he loves you as a brother. But there's more than one kind of love you can feel for a person, isn't there? So he did mean that he loves you, but in a different way. He loves you as a lover might." He explained.

Once more, I was left in shock. Apparently Kiku thought it was best to leave me with that, and before I could process what was going on, he left me with a little wave. I'd never even considered that Alfred might love me, but in a different way. To me, there had only been two options for us. He either loved me like a brother, or he didn't love me at all.

Could it be true? No, it couldn't be true. It just couldn't. After all, when could that have begun? Alfred had left me, so where could there have been romantic feelings? It didn't make any sense. Alfred didn't make any sense. He never made sense. So maybe it was possible. Did it even matter at this point?

Whether that was the case or not- and I was certain it wasn't- I had blown it. Alfred would never forgive me.

* * *

><p>Well, another update.<p>

A bit late, and I apologize for that.

Feel free to make suggestions as to what happens in the future.

It just may happen.


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